


'Gal-kâmnul

by seashadows



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Dwarflings have big ears, but young Gimli Glóinul learns that it's not wise to repeat everything you hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Gal-kâmnul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



Gimli liked lessons with Balin Fundinul. Mr. Balin had one of the bushiest beards Gimli had ever seen, and he knew the Old Tongue better than anyone except Mr. Bifur, and sometimes when his back ached, he would say “Well, lad, we’d best go and have something soothing, oughtn’t we?” Then, they would walk over to Mrs. Dís’s house, and Gimli could practice the Old Tongue with Cousin Fíli and Cousin Kíli at the stone table in the kitchen while Mrs. Dís made Mr. Balin a hot toddy. Gimli wasn’t sure what was in a hot toddy because Mrs. Dís wouldn’t make one for him, even when he pouted his lip and asked in his best Khuzdul, but Mr. Balin never complained about his back after. 

Sometimes, Mr. Thorin was there, and he’d bring Mr. Dwalin with him and Mr. Thorin would give his nephews a hug. Once, he forgot that Gimli wasn’t his nephew and gave him a hug and a big smacky kiss on the top of his head, and then he turned so red that it made Gimli laugh and Mrs. Dís have a wee in her smallclothes. Then Mr. Thorin dug around in his overcoat and gave Gimli a big piece of crystallized syrup, and his teeth were sticky for the rest of the afternoon. 

That was the best lesson ever, until today. Mr. Thorin had brought Mr. Dwalin over and they had big mugs of bitter stuff that made Gimli’s nose wrinkle, and they laughed and clapped all three of “the lads” on their backs. Then they started speaking to each other in the Old Tongue and used funny words, and Mr. Balin said Fíli and Kíli and Gimli didn’t need to study for the rest of the day. 

_Wait until I tell ‘Amad and ‘Adad!_ Gimli thought, wiggling excitedly in his seat. It was supper time, and as soon as ‘Amad had got Gimrís into her chair and cut up her food, he was going to tell his parents that he could understand it when grown Dwarves were talking in the Old Tongue. ‘Adad would be so proud, and ‘Amad would probably give him an extra sweetie next time she had some. 

“Well, what’ve we learnt today?” ‘Adad asked as he sat down. ‘Adad had the best beard in Ered Luin, in Gimli’s opinion. It was _very_ red, and Uncle Óin said that Gimli’s beard would be like that someday, too. He couldn’t wait. Right now, his beard wasn’t very impressive at all – just a little on his chin and up his jaw and some hairs on his upper lip. Everyone said that was because Gimli was only twenty-three. Sometimes, he hated being twenty-three. 

“I had lessons!” Gimli said, and wiggled even harder. 

“And ants in your trousers, looks like,” ‘Amad said with a smile. “Let me settle in your sister, and then you’ll tell us what that’s all about, hm?”

“Aye, ‘Amad,” Gimli said obediently. He waited for ‘Amad to give Gimrís her tatties and stew, and then he had to wait for everyone else to be served, because ‘Amad could be mean if you bothered her while she was doing something. It took _forever_. By the time everyone had some food, he was wiggling his bum so hard that he nearly fell off his chair. 

“Now,” said ‘Amad, taking a spoonful, “tell us what’s got you so excited, Gimli.”

“I heard new things today!” Gimli burst out. The words didn’t want to stay in his mouth, and they stumbled over each other as they came out. “It was new things in the Old Tongue.”

“Oh?” ‘Adad smiled. “Did someone say interesting things, laddie?”

“Aye, ‘Adad, they did. I understood some of it, too!” Everyone said it wasn’t nice to be too proud of yourself, but Gimli couldn’t help it. He was so proud of himself that it felt like his chest was just getting bigger and bigger. “They were talking about things in the mines, but they said some words and I didn’t understand them. I never heard those words before.”

Gimrís smashed her spoon into her food. “I got a tattie,” she said happily. “Yummy, ‘Amad.”

“Aye, dear.” ‘Adad patted her hand. “We’re listenin’ to your brother now. What was that, Gimli?”

“They said…” Gimli wrinkled his nose. He had to say the words right, or his parents wouldn’t be proud of him, and then learning the new words would just be a waste of time. “I think they said _Barku Khazd, Khazd ai-uh!_ ”

There was a second of silence, just long enough for Gimli to wonder if he’d gotten it wrong, and then ‘Adad’s fist shot out and pounded against the table so hard that Gimrís’s spoon fell out of her hand and onto the floor, and ‘Amad’s mug fell off the edge of the table to smash. Gimli immediately felt his eyes tear up as his ears began to ring. “’Adad!”

“Ye don’t _ever_ pervert the sacred cry like that, wee blasphemer!” ‘Adad growled. “Who told it ye? I’ll have ‘em cleanin’ out the mining buckets ‘til next Durin’s Day!”

“ _Glóin!_ ” There was a second blow, but this time, it was from ‘Amad. She slapped ‘Adad’s head and got up, stood over him, then raised her hand to slap him again. Gimli had never seen her eyes get so mad, not even when he hid all of Gimrís’s nappies. “Don’t you _ever_ frighten him so. The wee troublemaker doesn’t know what he’s on about!”

“What’d I do?” Gimli whispered. His face felt like it was on fire. 

“You said –“ ‘Adad suddenly stopped talking. His face was as red as an apple, and he looked like he was going to explode. “Never mind it,” he sighed. “That’s a dirty thing t’ say, Gimli, ye hear me? Don’t ever say that again.”

“No, ‘Adad,” Gimli said. It took a lot of work to talk with his lip wobbling and tears running down his face. Gimrís was whimpering, too, and Gimli could understand why. ‘Adad was _loud_ , and right now, he was scary. 

‘Amad grabbed ‘Adad’s wrist. “You _apologize_ ,” she said in a low voice, “and _then_ ye go hit the big wee troublemakers as taught him that. Gimli, where’d you hear that language?”

“At…at…” Gimli gulped and sniffled. “At Mrs. Dís’s house.”

‘Amad’s mouth opened and shut. She sat back down in her chair. “ _Dís’s_ house? You mean you heard that from the princes?” 

“No, ‘Amad –“

“Ach, I knew those two had filthy mouths,” ‘Adad cut in. His face was back to its normal color, but his eyebrows were knitted together. “Gimli, lad…I’m sorry I scared ye. ‘Twasn’t right to do.” He reached out his hand and Gimli couldn’t help flinching. “Mahal’s beard.” ‘Adad shook his head. “How could I make m’own son afeard o’me?”

“It _hurt_ , ‘Adad,” Gimli said angrily. Now that his ears weren’t hurting so much, he could get mad. ‘Amad always told him that he couldn’t hit other people, but ‘Adad wasn’t following the rules, even if he hadn’t exactly hit _Gimli_. “You can’t scare people.”

“He’s right, Glóin,” said ‘Amad, giving ‘Adad a dirty look. “You can’t scare people.”

“Aye,” ‘Adad said, shaking his head. “I suppose I can’t. Especially not if wee Fíli and Kíli taught Gimli to say that. I’ve got to have a talk with their mother.”

‘Amad nodded. “I’ll go with you. Shall I wake your brother to watch Gimrís?”

“That might be best. I’ll get him up, the lazy lump.” ‘Adad stood up and walked out of the kitchen in the direction of Uncle Óin’s room, his heavy boots clumping on the stone floor. 

“And clean that crockery up when ye come back!” ‘Amad shouted after him. 

“What about me?” Gimli asked. He hadn’t heard his name, and when it came to watching them, his name and Gimrís’s always went together. 

“You’ve got to come with us, wee dear,” ‘Amad answered. “I doubt Dís will…er…listen to us. What Fíli and Kíli taught you was terrible language indeed, and she might not believe us so well as you.”

Gimli’s heart started banging in his chest. “I don’t _want_ to go to Mrs. Dís’s house, ‘Amad!” he cried. “She scares me.”

“Oh?” ‘Amad raised the eyebrow that meant she didn’t believe you one bit. “Then why do I hear tell o’ you spending half your lessons there?”

“She’s not mad when I’m there,” Gimli explained. “She’ll be mad now.” How did ‘Amad not know that? She was a wee Dwarfling once, Grand-‘Amad had said, and she had to remember what it was like to be scared of someone who was very tall and very beardy. 

“Gimli, I promise ye, she won’t be angry.” ‘Amad’s eyebrow went down, but the frown on her face deepened. That wasn’t good. “Now come along. We’ve got t’get over there before it gets too dark to be seemly.”

Gimli wasn’t sure why it would be unseemly to walk in the dark, but he followed ‘Amad - without 'Adad, so he guessed she couldn't wait for him - along the pathways of Ered Luin to Mrs. Dís’s house anyway. She held his hand tightly and stared straight ahead, walking so fast that Gimli almost had to run to keep up. Even when Mr. Bifur and Mr. Bofur walked by, she didn’t stop to say _shamukh_ and ask them how Mr. Bombur was on this fine evening, like she usually would. 

Gimli squeezed her hand when they got to Mrs. Dís’s house, where the lights were on and he could just make out the moving shadows of the people inside through the window screens. ‘Amad didn’t seem to notice, but before he could sit down and feel proper sorry for himself, she was marching up to the doorway and banging a fist against it, like ‘Adad had. “Dís _Thráinul!_ ” she bellowed. “Get yer arse out here this instant, if it’s worth the trouble!”

The shadows suddenly stopped moving, and for a second, Gimli’s heart thumped. Did ‘Amad’s words _kill_ them? But no, there was Mrs. Dís in the doorway, scowling like Fíli and Kíli did when Mr. Balin told them that they needed to practice their cirth again. “And what’s so important that you’ll shout improprieties at my doorstep?” she asked. 

‘Amad yanked Gimli close. Without thinking about it, he put his hands out and wrapped himself up in her skirts, even though she’d told him a thousand times that he was too old to do that. “It seems my son’s been hearin’ worse improprieties from yours. Improprieties in the sacred tongue, no less.”

“Ah, well, that’s a different matter entirely,” said Mrs. Dís, and her face unclenched a little. She knelt down and held out a hand to Gimli. “Come here, then, Gimli. There’s no need to be afraid. Shall you tell me what you heard your cousins say?”

Gimli shook his head. ‘Amad said she wasn’t going to be mad, but he didn’t want to get hit again, even if his ears _had_ stopped ringing a while ago. “No, Mrs. Dís,” he finally whispered. “I – I didn’t hear nothin’ from Fíli and Kíli.”

“You’ll have to let me be the judge of that,” she answered, and looked at ‘Amad. “From the look of him, it’s truly foul language. Shall we go inside?”

“Please,” said ‘Amad, and Mrs. Dís led them to her kitchen. There were still the remains of three suppers on it, but it looked like Fíli and Kíli had scarpered as soon as they heard ‘Amad yelling. Gimli would have done it, too, if _he_ got served mushy green things. He wrinkled up his nose and tried to sit as far away from the dish of green stuff as he could, while Mrs. Dís got his mother what she called ‘something fortifying.’

“Now,” ‘Amad said when they were all settled, “tell her what you heard, Gimli.”

“I won’t be in trouble,” he said in a small voice, “really?”

Mrs. Dís put her hand on his. “I promise.”

Gimli took a deep breath before he spoke anyway. “I heard…I heard…” He swallowed. “They said _Barku Khazd, Khazd ai-uh._ ” Then, before Mrs. Dís or ‘Amad could get mad at him again, he started talking at them again. He couldn’t help it. “But I don’t know what it means! ‘Amad and ‘Adad said it’s dirty, but I don’t know what it is, Mrs. Dís, I promise.” His lip was wobbling again by the time he finished talking, and he felt like a true baby. 

Mrs. Dís didn’t look angry, though. Her arms were crossed, but there was a smile on her face and she was slowly shaking her head back and forth. “I know where he heard that,” she said, turning to ‘Amad, “and it wasn’t from my sons.”

“No?” ‘Amad folded her arms right back. “Then who was it, might I ask?”

Instead of answering, Mrs. Dís turned her head away. “Thorin, son of _Thráin_ , son of _Thrór!_ ” she shouted, even louder than ‘Amad had. “Get your filthy arse down here _this instant_ , or I’ll come in there and crack your head!”

There was a crash from somewhere in the house, and a loud, deep groan that hardly sounded anything like Mr. Thorin. “Is he ill?” Gimli asked. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Dís said, “with the ale-plague. THORIN!”

“I wouldn’t expect your brother to overindulge,” ‘Amad commented. 

“I know my brother a fair sight better,” Mrs. Dís said with a long sigh, “and he doesn’t. Not often. Which would be why three ales made him completely soused, and I had to put him to bed before he made a complete lunatic of himself in the streets.”

“That was probably the wisest course of action,” said ‘Amad. “Dwarrow can be so very…trying at times, I think.”

Maybe she would have said more about Dwarrow (she usually complained a lot about ‘Adad), but it was then that Mr. Thorin stumbled into the kitchen. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his chest and belly were almost as hairy as ‘Adad’s. “What is it, Dís?” he said, his voice even rougher than usual. “Who’s hurt?”

Mrs. Dís smiled at him and spoke in a very sweet voice that made Gimli feel uneasy. “You wouldn’t happen to remember wee Gimli being over here this afternoon, would you? I wouldn’t fault you for not remembering. You and Dwalin were rather indisposed through most of it.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Mr. Thorin groaned, slapping a palm against his forehead. “Yes, I remember. What’s the trouble?”

“He seems to have heard a certain filthy phrase come out of your mouth, or out of Dwalin’s. The lad was too frightened to specify.” Mrs. Dís stood up and went over to her brother to stand face-to-face with him. He was very tall, but so was she, and her nose was level with his chin. “His mother isn’t happy with you, and I don’t blame her.”

“Now, wait a moment,” ‘Amad said. Her cheeks were turning bright pink and she was looking at the table, which was very strange. She was always brave enough to look Mrs. Dís right in the eye, even if Mr. Thorin should have been king. “I never meant to accuse your brother, Dís. I thought he heard it from your sons.”

“What did he hear, exactly?” Mr. Thorin rumbled. He looked really embarrassed, too. “I’m sure we said…well, a good many things.”

Gimli’s stomach knotted up. Would ‘Amad and Mrs. Dís make him say it again? But no, ‘Amad said it herself. “My _son_ , at the supper table in perfect hearing of his father and his mother and his Maker, said _Barku Khazd, Khazd ai-uh._ ” Now she didn’t look embarrassed anymore; that was her angry voice, and she was looking Mr. Thorin straight in the eye. “Now, I know my son didn’t come up with that on his own, and Dís claims that it came from you, not your nephews.”

“ _M’imnu Mahal!_ ” Mr. Thorin said, covering his whole face with his big, hairy hand. “I – I make my apologies, Gimli.” 

“But what does it _mean?_ ” Gimli burst out. “No one’ll tell me what it means, Mr. Thorin! I’m sorry I said bad things, but I don’t know why it’s bad.” ‘Amad and Mrs. Dís both started snickering, and he didn’t know why that was, either. 

Mr. Thorin stood there with his mouth open for a long time. Then he said “ _Agh_ ” and flopped into the remaining chair at the supper table with his face resting on his arms. “It is a complicated answer,” he said into his own hair. 

“Well, then, go on, Thorin,” Mrs. Dís said, although it took her a while. She was laughing so hard that Gimli wondered if she was going to wee again. “Tell the lad the truth.” She wiped her eyes. 

Mr. Thorin’s whole body clenched up. “ _Quiet_ ,” he said, then added in a softer voice that was almost a whimper, “please.”

“Are you all right, Mr. Thorin?” Gimli asked. 

“Mr. Thorin will be quite all right once he sleeps it off,” ‘Amad said. “Please do tell him the meaning, _Mr._ Thorin.”

“It’s, ah.” Mr. Thorin almost sounded like he was about to choke, even though he wasn’t eating anything. “It’s…it’s what a Dwarf says when they want to, ah, fight you. In the mud. Without…without taking proper precautions. One should never fight that way.”

“You shouldn’t fight anyway,” Gimli told him. ‘Amad and ‘Adad said that all the time. _We Dwarves have enough enemies without turning on each other_ , they always said, but they didn’t do anything when Gimrís hit him with her wooden sword. That wasn’t fair. 

Now ‘Amad was laughing as hard as Mrs. Dís. “That sounds about right,” she finally got out. “Dís, I do believe your brother has been humiliated enough for one night.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Thorin said. 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Dís. “Thorin, go back to your room.”

“You have no authority to order me about.”

“For the love of Mahal,” Mrs. Dís said as she rolled her eyes. “If it hurts your ego so much to be told what to do, Thorin…all right, _you may_ go back to your room.”

“Mph,” said Mr. Thorin, and got up. 

Mrs. Dís smiled at Gimli once her brother had gone. “Now, Gimli,” she said, “you’re a good lad for telling us the truth. Would you like a sweet?”

“Yes, _please!_ ” Gimli answered. Neither ‘Amad nor ‘Adad could bake very well, but he loved sweets, so whenever he got pocket money, he spent it all at the market stalls. ‘Adad said he couldn’t have any regular gold until he learned to put the plates on the table before supper, so he didn’t get pocket money very often. “Have you got any?”

“As it happens, I baked some very fine tarts today, if I might say so myself,” Mrs. Dís said. Her skirts swooshed as she got up from the table. “I was _going_ to let Thorin have one, but I think you deserve them all.”

“Dís,” said ‘Amad, “we’re very grateful for your consideration towards Gimli, but he couldn’t possibly eat all that.”

“Nonsense, he’s a growing Dwarfling.” Mrs. Dís put a plate in the bottom of a cloth sack, then began to neatly pack the tarts into it. “You forget, I’m raising two of my own. I know how much Dwarflings can eat.”

“Then we’re very grateful, and Gimli will share,” said ‘Amad. She stood up and put her hand on Gimli’s shoulder. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time tonight, Dís. Thank you kindly for listening.”

Mrs. Dís pursed her lips and flapped a hand. “Think nothing of it. My brother needed a comeuppance, anyway. His head has gotten entirely too large lately.”

“I wouldn’t have a difficult time believing that at all.” ‘Amad took the sack, which made Gimli frown. He was twenty-three, and he could carry his own sack. Only wee babies like Ori Zhorul, who was forty but acted ten, needed help. “Come, Gimli, we’ve got to get home. Your ‘Adad will want to know what we’ve been up to.”

“Aye, ‘Amad,” Gimli said in the tone that all the grown Dwarves called ‘sulky’ when he tried to use it, and took her hand. 

But when they got home, ‘Adad was helping Uncle Óin teach Gimrís how to blow bubbles in a cup of goat’s milk and laughing so hard that he didn’t see ‘Amad until she had him by the ear. She dropped the sack then, and Gimli didn’t have to share with anyone at all if he didn’t want to. 

He still shared with Gimrís, though. It was more fun to eat sweets and watch grown Dwarves fight with a friend, even if she was your sister.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is Neo-Khuzdul for "dirty mouth." Gimli's dirty phrase is a modified singular of the Dwarvish war cry, and translates to "Axe of the Dwarf, Dwarf, to me!" When I first translated that, I thought it sounded very filthy indeed! 
> 
> Many thanks to Wikdsushi for looking over this story and making suggestions. <3


End file.
